


By Anonymous

by ThisNothingInTheMiddle



Category: Doctor Who, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen, Horror, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 08:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22713493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisNothingInTheMiddle/pseuds/ThisNothingInTheMiddle
Summary: In a lonely prison cell, on a lonely CIA outpost planet, there's a few pages of old-fashioned paper shoved into a crack in the wall. On them is some scrawled handwriting that no one ever wrote. It's a story with no author.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	By Anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> Some context.  
> A Doctor Who discord server that I'm a part of set up a Minecraft server. One of the people in it built an impressive tower for the Celestial Intervention Agency, with a dungeon and prison cells beneath it. I don't know how but a villager got stuck in one of the cells. He's still there. Maybe we should get him a lawyer or something, is there an update for that yet?  
> Anyway, I was expanding the cell block a bit when I decided to build in a secret nook, because I love making secret doors in Minecraft. Then I decided to write a short story that fit the setting and hide it there. Now I decided to edit it a bit then post it here.  
> That probably wasn't the context you were expecting but there you go. I thought about tagging this 'Minecraft' but decided against it.

Sometimes the Oubliette of Eternity works slowly and painfully, bleeding out your timeline instead of quickly putting it out of its misery. We don’t know why. I suppose it just goes to show, even the Time Lords don’t know everything.

I think that sentiment might be what annoyed someone high up. High Council, Inner Council, maybe even someone in the CIA itself. They didn’t like me, and with the Oubliette it’s easy enough to make unliked things vanish. No fuss or evidence.

The first thing that vanished was my name. No one could remember it at the morning briefing. I was insulted until I realised I couldn’t remember it myself. No document could tell us it. My signature was just a meaningless squiggle.

Then I lost my past. It’s funny, all my lives I didn’t like to imagine myself being anything other than an agent for the CIA. Now I don’t have to, because I’ve never been anything else.

The past that’s disappearing becomes ever more recent. Eventually, none of my fellow agents recognised me. They interrogated me, then locked me in this cell. They didn’t believe I was one of them. They told me that the Oubliette hasn’t been used in centuries at the very least.

Now they forget I’m here at all. Even when they see me through the bars, surprised that they have a prisoner, they forget almost as soon as they look away. I have mere seconds of history left trailing behind me.

My biodata is failing. I think one of my hearts is missing, never having been loomed. My left hand only has four fingers- for all I know it always has, even though I’m fairly certain that I should have the same amount on each hand.

What’s fascinating is that I’m beginning to remember. All the criminals we’ve dispersed, all the planets we’ve ‘surgically removed’ from various histories. The War Lords, the regents of House Dvora, the Shalka Empire.

It’s like I have a whole universe inside my head, all crammed into a small cell on an empty world. I hope this writing survives, so that someone can learn about the worlds that spacetime forgot. But I think I can already see the ink vanishing from the pages.

My future’s all gone too, now, I can feel it. Dried up like an old riverbed. All I have left to me is


End file.
